Apastron
by MyWhitelighter
Summary: "Once the Doctor took your hand and showed you the most amazing things in the Universe, it was impossible to let go – in more ways than one, Jack was still trying desperately to cling to that hand." AU series two; Captain Jack Harkness is looking for the Doctor and Rose again, and with the help of a certain Gallifreyan Sycorax-sliced appendage, he might just find them.
1. Apastron

**Apastron**

* * *

ap'as'tron (n). that point in the orbit of a double star where the smaller star is farthest from its primary.

* * *

**o-o-o**

"Alright Jack," Suzie had sighed, "you've finally lost me. What's with the hand?" It had bubbled in its preservatory jar as if it were aware it was the subject of conversation in the Hub.

"It's nothing," Jack had said._ It's everything_, he'd thought.

"I'll tell you what it is, it's sodding creepy," Owen had grimaced as he stood from his station and put on his coat, ready to leave for the evening. "I keep feeling like it'll just leap out and grab me."

Jack had laughed from where he'd been leaning against the wall. "That's why I got it," he'd winked over the top of his mug of coffee, "keeps you on your toes."

They'd prodded him a little bit more about it but he'd evaded their questions with a practiced ease – for some inexplicable reason, it felt private. Like it were a very intimate secret he couldn't share with anyone, and he supposed it was. It was between him and a man far, far away shooting across the stars from wonder to wonder never stopping once, and never looking back.

Captain Jack Harkness was begging him to look back.

It had been a trial to obtain the hand, and one that had baffled his colleagues to no end. For over a century he'd been keeping his eyes peeled for any signs of a Doctor that might coincide with his timeline, and the further they dipped into the 21st century the more chance he knew he had of finding him – ears and northern accent to boot. So when the Sycorax ship had parked itself rather unceremoniously over London he knew he had to be there. He just _had_ to be, and he'd hacked into every Torchwood One communication in the hopes of catching a whisper of that brilliant man.

He'd been right, he _was_ there. But his face was different – or so he'd been told. Regeneration was an ability of the Time Lords that had always been just a rumour flying around the Agency, but Jack was beginning to suspect there was more truth to it than had ever been applied before. It would explain a lot of things, that was for sure. All the same, it had been frustrating that the Doctor had been so close and yet he hadn't been able to do a thing to get up there and help him. To just _see_ him. But he'd been there, and so had Rose.

The Doctor and Rose.

When the events of the Christmas invasion had been described to him, that's exactly what they were – written across time, an unbeatable pair. He was just the man who'd been there for a little while, the one they'd left behind. The freelancer; the hitchhiker. In legends he didn't have a name, so he'd made his own in Torchwood.

_Notice me, Doctor. Come for me. _

The Hub was long since deserted, everyone having returned home by now but still Jack stayed, sat at his desk and stared across the room at the severed hand, floating in the deep blue jar.

There'd been talk of the Doctor losing that limb as he fought the leader of the Sycorax, and while many at Torchwood One had dismissed it as exaggerated rumour, the captain suspected otherwise. After siphoning a little rift energy into a small device he'd been working on in his spare time, he recalibrated the sensors to look for time energy – in his regeneration period the Doctor would've been a walking ball of intense energy, and Jack had hoped to hone in on that and find where the hand had fallen.

Why? He wasn't even sure.

It had been a constant vigil for three days, combing every single street. He didn't sleep and he couldn't remember eating although he must've, most likely offerings from the bemused members of his team who had hunted him down at various times throughout the second and third day to check he hadn't fallen over in exhaustion. When they asked him what he was looking for, he'd simply said it was time energy to do with the rift and they shouldn't worry, even while every single minute his heart had hammered and his spirits had lingered on the cusp of _hope_, but after all this time he wasn't sure he'd even wanted to grant himself that.

He found it in a dumpster near the Houses of Parliament and he'd been ecstatic – in retrospect he wasn't sure what he'd hoped to achieve. What he _still_ hoped to achieve. Maybe he was just holding on to a part of his life where he'd had a real purpose, and a real connection to the rest of the Universe that the Doctor had given him. Torchwood Three was a way of passing the time, of snatching the debris that washed up in Cardiff and imagining what beautiful worlds they'd been part of once, and speculating whether Rose and the Doctor had been there.

He shut his eyes tight and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms.

_They'd left him behind. _

He didn't like to think about it; he liked to imagine that the Doctor had some wonderful reason for his desertion on Satellite Five, and that one day he'd be back. He'd be back to pick Jack up and they could be the Doctor and Rose and Captain Jack Harkness again – they could be amazing, the three of them together. They already were once, after all.

But the Doctor didn't need him. The Doctor had Rose.

And he had a sneaking suspicion that the Doctor _knew_.

Why else would he avoid him for so long? It would take only seconds out of their lives to collect him, and it wasn't as if he'd been unhelpful. He'd _died_ for them. More than once, if he thought about the amount of times Torchwood had tried to kill him because of his connection to the Doctor. God, he missed that connection. Stuck in Cardiff he felt cut off from everything, and it was an awfully lonely way to live. Once the Doctor took your hand and showed you the most amazing things in the Universe, it was difficult to let go and let yourself be consigned to oblivion – in more ways than one, Jack was still trying desperately to cling to that hand.

The forefinger of the severed hand in the jar twitched, and Jack's eyes opened.

Realisation came like the crystalline light that burst across the sky of Tarqwon Four every fifty years. If he wanted answers and the Doctor refused to find him, he'd have to start looking himself – and this time, he had something to help him.

**o-o-o**

Daniel Johnson was about as normal as they came – normal family, normal neighbourhood, mid-way through a normal degree at a normal university. Economics. It hadn't even interested him that much, but it looked like one that would lead to a steady job so he could support his Dad, and that was what was important to him. In his free time he enjoyed going down the pub with a few mates and catching the latest game, cheering for the Blues and booing the Swans at the appropriate moments. The point was, Daniel Johnson was normal and he _liked_ being normal, but on the eve of his 20th birthday all that changed. Transformed as quickly as the click of a key in a lock and being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He'd been coming back from class with his books tucked under one arm when an odd noise from the IT suite caught his attention. Sort of like a scraping sound, like metal nails dragging painfully down a chalkboard and he winced involuntarily – he wanted to ignore it, but instinct pushed him back the way he'd come.

The door was locked but his Professor had let him borrow the key that morning so he could complete his term paper undisturbed (like he would be in the library) and had then insisted that he use the suite to catch up on any other work he needed finishing and give the key back to him tomorrow. So he simply jammed it in the lock and turned, nearly dropping it at what he saw inside.

A blue box, huge and no more than two meters in diameter sat slap bang in the middle of the room, in plain sight. It certainly hadn't been there that morning, and it looked _ridiculously_ heavy – did someone carry it there? Pondering what sort of prank it might be, Daniel stepped closer into the room to examine it. Along the top it read "police box" and although he'd never seen one before he'd been to the British Museum once and he reckoned it was some antique from the 20th century. What it was doing in the middle of the IT suite at a university in the middle of Cardiff was beyond him.

Then suddenly, one of the doors opened.

"Here we are!" A man's voice sang, although it was muffled as if he were facing the other way. "The Tudor—" Daniel only had time to spot the pinstriped suit and the long metal pole the man was (_impossibly_) carrying out of the box before he turned abruptly and it thwacked him in the head, knocking him to the ground. He didn't remember much after that. "—Period?" Realising what he'd done, the man in the suit winced and put his lance – a tool traditionally used for medieval jousting – carefully on the floor. "Whoops."

He stepped outside the box and crouched on the ground, examining the young man he'd knocked out. Before he could completely finish his assessment, a blonde woman not much older than the man on the floor appeared in the doorway, sporting a rather elaborate and unconventional dress for the period she'd walked into. "Doctor? Hang on a sec, this looks nothin' like – what have you done _now_?" She asked exasperatedly, taking in the scene before her.

"Boshed him on the head, I think. Maybe my jousting technique's a little... rusty."

"So instead of keepin' the door open for me so I can actually walk in this ridiculous dress, you're stabbing men with your pole before you're even out the TARDIS." The man grinned sheepishly. "Who says chivalry is dead?"

"He's only unconscious," the man said, but he had the good grace to look guilty. Too soon though his expression morphed into something else she knew well – curiosity. His thick-rimmed spectacles were rammed on and he continued his inspection. "What's _odd_, though, is that he looks like he was checking us out."

"So? Big blue box in a big... really _not_ Tudor room, Doctor, 's a bit suspicious."

He frowned and rubbed his chin. "Even in an enclosed space like this the perception filter should work – not many people can see through that."

The girl shrugged by way of response. "Maybe he's just one of them?"

"Maybe," the man said thoughtfully.

**o-o-o**

Jack was running.

The hand had been sitting in the Hub for a few weeks now, when suddenly it had started to glow – he didn't know what it meant but after a burst of inspiration he'd pulled out the old device he'd used for tracking it down, messed around with its settings (with a speed his old friend might be proud of) and before he knew it he had a tracking device. A Doctor Detector, if you will. He'd mobilised the team even while giving them minimum instructions about what they were looking for and they'd piled into the SUV, taking off at breakneck speed.

The whole way there he'd been barely able to control himself to the point where Suzie was getting antsy and asking if he'd prefer it if she drove, and he waved her off with a laugh. Tried to make it seem like another day at the office – but it was so much more than that. This was the Doctor, _his _Doctor, or one of them.

When they pulled up to the university building Jack sent Tosh, Owen and Gareth through the back while he and Suzie made for the front.

"A man in a brown coat – and a blonde girl. And a damn fantastic blue box!" He'd yelled at them as they sprinted into the building. The hand shimmered brighter in the container on his back and he tried to stop himself from bursting out into ecstatic laughter. He was here – this was _it_.

**o-o-o**

The man stood up again and brushed some imaginary dust with his coat before inspecting their surroundings. "Anyway, we seem to have veered off course a bit – quite magnificently, actually." He dropped his glasses back into one of his huge pockets as he tapped the monitor of one of the computers in the suite. "Twenty-first century. There's always something about this place, hm?"

"Told you we should've turned left after that fuzzy vortex bit thingy," his companion teased, poking her tongue out between her teeth.

The man grinned. "Well next time, Miss Tyler, _you_ can drive."

**o-o-o**

"If it is them, should we wait for Jack?" Gareth asked from where they stood around the corner, listening to voices on the other side – a man and a woman, just like who Jack had told them to look out for. They'd been in the other room for a minute or so already, and there was no sign of a blue box but it could well be further inside. They didn't know whether to just charge in or not.

Owen loaded his gun. "I reckon we just go in and get this over with. I had a good game of online poker I was in the middle of before Jack started rambling on." He made to charge forward, but a hand pulled him back.

"No, Gareth's right—we'll wait and guard the door so they can't get out," Toshiko Sato looked at him pointedly.

"You're such a killjoy, you know that?"

Before she could think of a comeback the three of them were shoved to the wall as someone thundered around the corridor just in front of them, without a second thought to his team and a crazed look in his eye like all the hounds of Hell were on his heels.

"_Doctor!_"

**o-o-o**

"At least I might get us a couple hundred years closer," the girl remarked, before a shout had them both staring at the door.

"_Doctor!_"

The girl recognised that voice – smooth, distinctive – _American_?

"Oh my god," she said, a hesitant smile breaking out as she looked hopefully at her friend, but he barely even spared her a glance. Every single cell within him was screaming for him to run, to get out of there and not take even a second to look back just as he'd done on Satellite Five. It was something fixed, something terrifyingly still like the eye in a storm that'd never really go away.

He grabbed the girl's hand, turned for his blue box and ran.

**o-o-o**

"Doctor! Doctor it's _me_!"

His voice was only an echo on wood as the door had already shut.

Captain Jack Harkness had burst into the room just as the TARDIS was vanishing into the vortex.

He watched it fade, could feel the breeze of another world blowing his hair from his forehead and he knew with an irritating certainty that if he'd been a second earlier he might've been able to touch it. As it was, that wonderful man had left him nothing behind except an unconscious teenager on the floor.

Jack let out a string of expletives that had his team looking awkwardly at the ground, and he threw his small handheld Doctor Detector across the room in frustration. "Pick him up," he said, gesturing to the man on the floor. Whoever he was, he might know something about what had just happened. "Get him back to the Hub." Owen and Gareth moved tentatively forward, sensing the sombre mood of their team leader, slung Daniel Johnson over their shoulders and left. Toshiko and Suzie followed after them.

Jack tried to stop the ache clenching painfully at his heart – it was so clear the Doctor didn't want him and all his enigma.

_Then why couldn't he stop holding onto that hand?_

**o-o-o**

* * *

**Da-daaah! New story. Imagine Jack finding the Doctor before Utopia? So I'm going through a bit of a Doctor Who phase right now and I guess we'll just see how this turns out. I'm sorry there wasn't a lot of dialogue, but consider this more like a prologue than anything else. It's Doctor Who first and foremost, although Torchwood will feature (this is obviously pre-Gwen Cooper and pre-Ianto Jones because the whole fiasco at Torchwood One hasn't happened yet. Gareth is a character of my own creation).This is more of a test, too - please let me know your thoughts and if there's enough interest I'll definitely continue! Reviews are muchly and wonderfully welcome.**

**~MyWhitelighter**


	2. Evanescent

**Evanescent**

* * *

ev'a'nes'cent (adj). soon passing out of sight, memory, or existence; quickly fading or disappearing.

* * *

**o-o-o**

When Daniel Johnson came around it was to swirling lights and blinking instruments, and for a minute he was sure he'd woken up in some kind of hospital – had he blanked out for a bit? His memory of events prior to opening his eyes was a little hazy, but he vaguely thought that he'd been at the university before something had happened. Something what? As he stirred and his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the room, a face peered over the front of him and blocked the light out, and he shrunk back instinctively.

"Give the patient a bit of air, will you?" Came a tired voice from his left, and the face receded giving him an opportunity to inspect his surroundings a little closer.

What he'd first assumed was a hospital he very quickly realised was some sort of makeshift medical bay in the corner of somewhere much more metal and a lot less friendly – cool steel covered most of the surfaces including the one he was lying on, save for a thin white mattress which did little to protect from the cold underneath or the chill around him. Daniel resisted the urge to shiver and sat up a little. The area he was in was round with a small staircase with chain railings near him leading to a higher level that circled it, reminding him a little of a sewer of some kind or an underground tunnel. It was lit entirely by artificial light and he could see the building spanned further, but the lack of windows around the interior of the structure made it feel enclosed and he had a growing suspicion that he really _was_ underground – wherever here _was_.

There were four people around him; the first man who'd just spoken was a man sat in a white lab coat on a chair beside the metal slab Daniel was lying on, examining some computer monitors that he couldn't quite make out – then on the higher platform surrounding him and surveying him there was a second man, a brunette with a chiselled jaw line and a sharpish nose standing a little unsure of himself awkwardly leaning against the side, and a woman next to him, skin the colour of a rich olive and frizzy dark hair tied back from her face, which was scrunched up in concentration as she peered at some kind of miniature computer device in her hand. It didn't look like she was sparing him much thought.

The one who drew Daniel's attention the most, though, was the fourth standing a few paces away on the same level as he, leaning against the start of the stairs and watching him carefully – the same man who'd been standing over him as he first woke up. He felt distinctly out of time with the way he wore his red suspenders so effortlessly over his shirt, sleeves rolled up, and the long blue militia coat slung over the railing beside him made Daniel think of an old army officer from a time long gone by. Maybe mid-20th century. (He really did love the British Museum). The man's face was a mask of stone, complete apathy to whatever was going on but the upturn of the mouth on one side suggested some kind of calculating mind behind there that made him uneasy.

"My back hurts," Daniel winced as he moved, realising his back was twinging a little in pain as he sat up, and thinking a few seconds later that he probably should have said something else for his first words in this strange new environment. "Where am I?"

"I'm not used to dealing with live bodies in here, sorry," the man in the lab coat shot a withering look at the man in suspenders, not really sounding all that sorry at all. "Sleeping comfort isn't exactly a priority of ours." He snorted and turned back to his monitors.

"What is this place?" Daniel continued, voice pitching slightly higher as his brain started to connect the dots and he started to feel slightly more panicked.

The brunette on the upper level turned and Daniel noticed with a jolt of dread that there was a gun resting in a holster at his waist.

Definitely not good.

"This is Torchwood," the brunette said, as if that explained everything. "We just want to ask you a few questions."

Daniel shrank back, but he was enclosed and entirely vulnerable in the centre of that circle of room, and the metal bed didn't give him protection of any sort. "Is that name supposed to mean something to me?"

"It's a comfort that it doesn't," the girl said, still absorbed in her computer pad, "top secret, and all that."

"Are you with the government?"

"We're better than that," the man with the suspenders spoke up from where he stood, a smirk playing on the corner of his mouth, "much better."

"Then," and here Daniel forced far more confidence into his voice than he felt, "can you tell me what the hell is going on here?"

The man in suspenders stepped forward. "I'm Captain Jack Harkness, head of Torchwood Three. This is some of my team – Suzie Costello, my second in command," the woman raised a hand without lifting her eyes from the screen, "Gareth Fiennes," the brunette with the gun, "and Owen Harper, our medical officer and for the next few minutes, your bitch. If you need anything at all – painkillers, pheromones, a friendly face to talk to; just ask him."

"Piss off, Jack," said the man in the lab coat.

Daniel didn't have time to wonder why pheromones were so high on the list of necessities.

The captain was already continuing. "But, to business – what's the last thing you remember before waking up here?"

"Where's _here_?" Daniel persisted.

"Where's anywhere?" Jack shrugged, eyes hard and unyielding. "It's all relative. Tell me all you remember."

"Are we underground?"

Owen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is a waste of time. Can we just Retcon him and get him out of here?"

Daniel's eyes widened. "What's Retconing?" His heart began to thump loudly in his chest. "I swear, my best friend is a copper and if something happens to me she'll – she'll have the whole of Cardiff after you."

Gareth hid a laugh behind his hand and Daniel's eyes narrowed even with the rapidly increasing fear and dread seizing his brain.

"I don't doubt it," Jack said gravely, although his eyes sparkled with amusement, "but we'll take care of you. In fact you can go the moment we have what we want – we think you may have information about a subject very important to us."

"To you," Suzie shot back quietly, and Daniel could sense the tension there.

Jack conceded with a tilt of his head. "Alright, to _me_," he cast an irritated look in the woman's direction, "It's important to me. I swear on all that's good you can walk right outta here the moment you tell me all you can remember before blacking out. Specifically about a man you might've seen."

Daniel adjusted his position so he was sitting a little more comfortably, silently asking the doctor for permission to swing his legs over the side of the slab. Owen nodded, and Daniel flicked his gaze again to Jack who was still staring at him expectantly. His first instinct was to not answer and to probe more about where he was and what the hell was going on, but he felt disoriented and confused and the reassuring lilt of the captain's accent felt comforting, as if he understood how unsettling this whole experience was.

Jack was examining him in a similar fashion. It was a long shot – more than a long shot, a _galaxy_ sized shot as his team had pointed out to him, but it was all he had. He couldn't just up and leave it as it was when he'd been so close to the man he was trying so desperately to find.

Daniel Johnson was, by all accounts, incredibly ordinary. His background check had given absolutely nothing beyond the average – lived with his father, never left Cardiff even when pursuing higher education because said father was terminally ill and needed constant care. A degree in economics, a fondness for "Oh Danny Boy" and football matches with local adults every Saturday morning. He even _looked _boring, with a mop of fair brown hair and some sea green eyes.

The kid was clearly very off-balance at having woken up in a strange environment, and although Jack was trying to force sympathy into his tone he wasn't sure he had the patience for pulling it off completely. He just wanted to get any information he had, then leave it at that.

A moment passed as they watched each other, until Daniel finally seemed to resign himself to it and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I remember... I was walking back from class, and there was this noise," he shrugged awkwardly as if unsure if he was making any sense, "like – like metal scraping on metal, a kind of groaning." His answer seemed to please Jack as the man nodded and took a step closer.

"And?"

"And it just sounded odd so I went to take a look," he frowned and tried to remember what happened next. "I think there was a box? A blue box, just standing there like someone had stuck it there and left it."

"Was there anybody around?" Jack could already feel hope creeping into his gut.

Daniel rubbed an eyebrow as he concentrated. "You know, I think there _was_ a man. He was coming out of it and..."

"And _what_?" Jack persisted.

"I don't remember."

He blinked. "What do you mean you don't remember?"

"I _mean_, I don't remember. There was a box and a man and the next thing I know I'm waking up in some kind of government base with you lot giving me the third degree," he snapped, getting irritated.

"Do you know what the man was wearing? What he was doing? Did he say anything?"

"I don't sodding _remember_, alright? Why don't you just use one of those torture device looking things you've got over there and extract it from my brain or something?"

Owen rolled his eyes from where he sat. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Jack couldn't believe it. He'd been so _close_; here sat someone who'd been closer to the Doctor than Jack had in almost 150 years, and he had absolutely no recollection of it. Whatever had knocked him out would remain a mystery, but he'd seen the TARDIS. Been close to it. Possibly enough to touch it and be even the tiniest part of that world, but still more so than Jack expected he'd ever be again.

"We said it was a long shot," Gareth said quietly, sensing Jack's withdrawal as the captain stepped away, rubbing his brow tiredly. He shot him a look that hushed him up.

"What's this all about, anyway? Who's this man then?" Daniel was still piping up from where he sat, trying to at least get some idea of what was going on. Jack wasn't paying attention. Then something shifted like a realisation, and Daniel thought about all the messed up things he'd seen in Cardiff and on the news over the past few years. "It's aliens, isn't it? It's got to be. Top secret government stuff like this!"

Jack rolled his eyes before finally feeling a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "Well, that's that. Retcon him and drop him where we found him." He was annoyed and more than a little upset, but he had to laugh, at least for the sake of the team. Jack never took anything seriously, and that was his role. The moment you started taking your life in the Hub to seriously, that was when it became very difficult. Even if the Doctor had left him behind again, and even if it looked like he'd hit another dead end; he had to laugh.

"What _is_ Retconing?" Daniel asked, worry seeping into his tone. "It's because I'm right, aren't I?"

Jack shot him a smile but didn't answer him, instead talking to the rest of his team. "And stop him asking awkward questions. By the time I get back I don't want him down here and I want us back to work – the Rift doesn't monitor itself."

"Says you," Owen raised an eyebrow, "marching us off into the middle of nowhere to look for your precious box."

"I'm in charge," Jack replied frankly with a wink, "so your argument is invalid. I'm going for pizza."

"I'll come with you," Suzie said quickly – a little too quickly for her to just fancy a slice of margherita, but Jack didn't comment as he picked up his coat and she made to follow him. She'd always do that when she wanted a word with him. Sometimes he'd cut her off when he wanted to be alone, but this time he permitted her – of all the people in Torchwood he trusted her the most, and he felt like he owed some part of the team a semblance of an explanation for that wild goose chase he'd led them all on earlier that day.

It was a brisk night out as they emerged from the secret entrance to the Hub, and Jack straightened out his jacket as he blinked into the darkness. The sea mist from the Bay was just rolling in across the waterfront, moistening the dock and giving it an eerie feel as you couldn't see more than 50 yards out to sea.

Sometimes he stopped to think about how he'd watched Cardiff Bay grow and develop over the last century, but that often spurred on a melancholy that could tie him down for days at a time – thinking about how long he'd lived. How far his life still stretched out before him.

_"The Doctor; he'll be able to fix me."_

_"When the Doctor turns up, it'll all be put right."_

He'd been naive and a good 140 years younger when he'd first assumed that. Was it still naive to cling to that sliver of hope? That the Doctor might fix him, make him mortal – of course back then he'd been reluctant to even _consider_ that his old friend had left him intentionally, and that it was only a matter of the man tracking him down. Now he knew better.

The purpose that had been driving Jack for such a long time felt so brittle, much more so than ever before.

"Jack?" Suzie's voice reminded him that he had company, and he turned around with a smile.

"Domino's?"

The vexation and easily identifiable concern in her expression told him he was right in assuming she hadn't come out for the pizza.

He clicked his tongue. "Papa John's?"

"What's going on, Jack?" She said, an intensity there that made him compelled to give some sort of serious answer.

But Jack Harkness always laughs.

"It's nothing you should get worried over," he shrugged, "I'm just looking for an old friend – always have been. Since the dawn of time, it feels like." He put his hands in his pockets and started to walk, the implication there that she was supposed to follow him. Then he laughed. "I guess I just thought we were better friends than he did."

Suzie fell into step beside him. "This Doctor, and his box. He's your friend?" Jack nodded. "Why all the theatrics to hunt him down? Can't you just... send him a message?"

Here, the laugh was genuine – the ever practical Suzie Costello. "He never stays in the same place long. And he hates repeats."

She didn't understand him, but he was always careful to keep some kind of distance between his employees at Torchwood; ever since Alex and his massacre that blurred out the turn of the century for Jack with the horrors he'd inflicted, he'd wanted to rebuild Torchwood differently. In his name, and in the Doctor's – now he encouraged every single one of them to have a life outside the Hub. To let their personal lives be their own, and it was a practice he'd learnt to preach. Some of them often grumbled about knowing next to nothing about him, but he preferred it that way. Putting himself on display so callously today with the hunt for the Doctor was damage to his reputation he couldn't afford. He'd just been so _desperate_.

She sighed, and he could detect an edge of frustration. "You always laugh it off, Jack. Dance around us so we have no idea what you're thinking. How can you act so cavalier about everything, like the Rift and the rest of the Universe is some huge joke to you?"

He didn't answer, and kept looking straight ahead. She was determined.

"But this wasn't a joke, was it?" Again, no response and she looked away in irritation. "You've got to stop shutting us off and acting so indestructible," she braved a side-along look at the head of their team, wondering if he considered any of them friends or if they were just people to be manipulated. Maybe only 'the Doctor' held that right. "It de-humanizes you."

"Maybe that's what I want," he offered to the empty air.

"Who is he, Jack? Who's the Doctor?"

He closed his eyes, hating that he wasn't sure how to answer that question himself.

**o-o-o**

The Doctor was a man used to running.

He would run as far as a thousand suns and further before taking just one glance over his shoulder, afraid of what he might see behind him. The Time War. The fallen friends. If he didn't stay on the run from his past then it would drive him to the brink of insanity. It was already littered with casualties, with deaths and empty promises and _everybody lives_ but they didn't always – and his biggest mistake to date. The largest consequence of something that was inadvertently his fault; what he should be turning around and taking responsibility for he was instead running away from as fast and as far as possible. The one thing wrong with the Universe, and it had just been sprinting straight towards him like a poor creation seeking its master.

The Doctor was a man used to running, but he'd never felt more ashamed of shutting the TARDIS door than he did at that moment.

The thunder in Rose Tyler's expression didn't exactly help matters.

"We left him," she glared, standing a few paces away from him and standing against the railing in the control room.

He was leaning against the console staring into the time rotor – he couldn't look at her. "Yep."

"He was there – Jack was there, callin' your name and we left him."

"I'm sorry."

Rose folded her arms and looked away. She felt totally ridiculous in the long dress she'd picked out for what was supposed to be a jaunt to the Tudor period, but what once was excitement for their next adventure was now just itchy cotton and a tight corset with far too many underskirts. If she weren't so confused and quite frankly angry at what had just transpired when the TARDIS had flown so drastically off course she would have considered going to get changed, but there were far more important things to consider – like an old friend they seemed to have left behind.

"How did he even get there?" Rose asked, not wanting to push too hard on the subject (never argue with the designated driver, after all) but needing some answers for the Doctor's actions all the same.

The Doctor shrugged, fiddling with a few dials that didn't seem to do a lot. "I told you he was busy."

"In the 2001st century!" She shot back. "I thought – I thought you were just sayin' that. After everything that happened on Satellite Five I figured you were tryin' to protect me." She stared at him but he offered nothing back. "I thought he was dead. That was why we never went to get him."

He finally met her accusing eyes with the sincerity in his own, and he felt shame colour his face even more as her expression changed to one of outrage. "You knew!" she gasped, "you knew I thought that and you let me believe –?"

"Rose," he said, trying to calm her down, "I'm sorry. I thought it'd be easier that way." Writing off Captain Jack Harkness as a casualty of war was better than trying to explain his unique situation to Rose – it saved her asking awkward questions about his whereabouts or her trying to persuade him to return and pick him up. But now she knew, and she wasn't up for running; she was digging her heels in the ground in true Rose Tyler fashion.

"You thought wrong," she glared, and his shoulders sagged. He hated Rose being angry with him, and he'd been running entirely on autopilot when he'd grabbed her hand and pulled her back into the TARDIS.

He liked running, and he hated looking back. He didn't want to think about Jack left alone on Satellite Five. Jack left alone where they just came from. Jack confused and immortal and probably a little afraid of what he was.

She folded her arms, anger bubbling beneath the surface. "If he's been on Earth during my time – why didn't we go and get him before?" She asked, trying to force some rational thinking into her tone. This was the _Doctor_, he didn't abandon people for no reason. Sometimes he could seem unyielding, unfathomable and like a storm in the face of danger, but he was kind. He knew and respected the Universe in a way Rose couldn't even begin to imagine, and she couldn't reconcile that man with one who could leave a friend of theirs behind with no explanation.

The Doctor swallowed. "He's been –"

"Busy?" Rose cut him off. "What does that even _mean_, Doctor?" He clenched his teeth and ran a hand through his hair, darting away from her round to the other side of the console to give him something to do. "How come you get to decide if we've got time for you? If we can't get Jack 'cos he's busy, then am I just... available?"

"No," he insisted, a firmness in a tone that even despite everything reassured her, "of course not. Keeping you around is good for my health. Who else would stop me eating dodgy Monion chips, hm? Stick 'em in a newspaper anywhere in the Universe and they're good enough for me, extra fatal Monion oil or no." He flashed her a grin in an attempt to lighten the mood, but it faded slowly at the lack of response from his companion.

"Can we go see him?"

He scratched the side of his head and wondered how he was going to try and get her to understand. There was no way he could tell her she was responsible for his immortality – in fact, he had no idea how to approach the whole fixed-point-in-time situation in regards to Jack at all. He wasn't sure he wanted her to know or blame herself for what had happened to him, and there didn't seem to be a way to make her see all the _wrongness_ of everything either. The Time Lords, for all their supposed superior intellect and development, still held deep rooted instincts connected to the fight or flight response when confronted with points in time that didn't move. Of course, the Doctor chose flight – every time.

How could he explain to her how something as _solid_ as Jack terrified him beyond his control?

"Rose," he said quietly as he moved back towards her, "timelines are... they're tricky things. The Jack we saw just now isn't the same one we left on that space station." It wasn't a lie; just carefully omitting parts of the truth relating to what exactly was different about him.

Rose dropped her gaze. "You're different now and you're alright."

He smiled sadly. "It's not the same. Time travellers who jump around, meet each other in the wrong order – things get complicated. And Jack is one complication too many for this Time Lord. Do you understand me?" Standing in front of her she was now the one avoiding his gaze, in her mind expecting that he was right just because he always was and he always knew more about these things than she ever would. It did make sense, in a way. She just didn't like it.

"How do you know so much about him?" She asked instead.

The Doctor shrugged. "He leaves me messages from time to time. Well, more like updates. Well, sort of like advertisements, really." Rose frowned and he ran a hand through his hair. "Writing on my favourite exhibits at the British Museum – I saw a few when we went there with Mickey that time we saw your statue. Leaving alien things where he knows I'll find them. He used to transmit his location on a couple of subspace channels he knew the TARDIS could pick up, sort of like a transdimensional radio, but..." He finished with a wince and a tilt of his head. "Complications. Like I say, he's been very, very busy."

Rose chose not to reply, and stuck her tongue in the corner of her cheek – not even one of the Doctor's confusing but ultimately endearing rambles could cheer her up at this point. He sensed this, reached forward and entwined one of her hands with his own.

"Do you trust me, Rose?" She nodded. "Then please, trust me on this. Jack doesn't belong in the TARDIS anymore, and I'm sorry but that's the way it is."

Finally she seemed to concede and squeezed his hand affectionately. "Okay."

He squeezed back. "Okay."

They stood like that for a moment, just silent and sure, before the Doctor released her and bounded back to the console, spinning dials and flipping switches in the way only he knew how. "Always moving on! Forget the Tudor period, nobody likes Greensleeves anyway. You better get changed Rose Tyler, because I have just had the most _brilliant_ idea about where we're going next."

**o-o-o**

There were so many things Jack could have said, so many ways to answer that question and so many things he thought to tell practical, down-to-earth Suzie that she never would have understood, but he never got the chance. Just as he opened his mouth to try and stumble his way through a response (who _was_ the Doctor, if not the most wonderful man in the Universe?) a voice called out to the pair of them from back at the secret entrance to the Hub, still just within sight from where they stood further along the dock.

"Jack, Suzie!" Gareth yelled, and they both turned back around. "You better come quick, it's Johnson – the kid. He's having some kind of allergic reaction to the Retcon!"

The pair of them shared a look. "That's never happened before," Suzie murmured worriedly.

"Never," Jack agreed, starting to jog back to where Gareth was beckoning them over. "Maybe Daniel isn't as boring as I thought."

**o-o-o**

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**Thank you for all your feedback on the first chapter! :) No matter how small, every comment helps me develop this story and improve as a writer. I'd also like to give a huge thank you to Emilie Brown, who volunteered and proceeded to make Apastron that lovely story image it now has! Thanks again! Thoughts on the Doctor and Rose? In their timeline this is between 'Tooth and Claw' and 'School Reunion'. Thoughts on Jack and his predicament? Any and all reviews and comments are muchly appreciated. :D Over and out!**


	3. Obviate

**This chapter is for koryandrs; I'm so grateful for all of your reviews!**

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**Obviate**

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ob'vi'ate (v). to prevent something by anticipating and disposing of it effectively.

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**o-o-o**

Given how peacefully the boy was lying on the medical bed now, it was be hard to imagine that only an hour or so earlier he'd been thrashing and convulsing to the point where he had to be held down by the not-exactly-apt Toshiko as Owen ran for a sedative and Gareth ran for Jack and Suzie. From what Jack could gather, after he and Suzie had left the others had offered Daniel a glass of water with the pill dissolved inside, much as they had a thousand times before with a thousand other people, but a few minutes after drinking it he'd started to sweat – quite profusely, apparently. It was the gargling noises he began to make that attracted Owen's attention, and soon it became an all-out fit across the bed.

"Allergy of somekind," was Owen's explanation, "his throat closed up and he couldn't breathe. The lack of oxygen caused the fit, but I'll need to run some tests to be sure."

"Do you have any idea what caused the reaction?" Jack rubbed his chin thoughtfully as they watched the younger man sleep peacefully.

"Not the slightest," Owen replied, "amnesia pills are designed as a catch-all type thing – no known food or otherwise chemically engineered material allergies should apply. Yet somehow, we picked up the one exception and dumped him in the middle of the Hub – nice one, Jack."

"Maybe he's allergic to the vessel you gave it to him in?" Suzie suggested.

"Water? Not likely."

"But not impossible," she pointed out.

He snorted. "A patient'd normally tell you if he was allergic to water before taking a nice long drink, don't you think?" She conceded with a nod.

"Then what I want to know is what caused it—I don't care how you find out," Jack pushed off from the wall he was leaning on and peered in to take a closer look at the sleeping form. "Until we know he can't leave."

There was a bubble of resistance from Suzie as she watched. "We can't just keep him here indefinitely, Jack. Who knows how long the tests will take?"

"What choice do we have?" He shook his head. "Until we can safely administer a Retcon we can't let him set one foot outside this building. Nobody leaves the Hub with memories of Torchwood, that's been the rule since before your great grandparents were even eating solid foods."

"He has a life to get back to. A father who needs constant care, remember?"

"Then we'll send someone to do just that," he pushed on, before calling for Tosh's attention, "get a nurse sent to Johnson's address. Tell the father he's on vacation for a few days."

Suzie fixed him with a steely glare. "He's not our _prisoner_, Jack. He wouldn't even be here and have any memories to erase if it weren't for you and my question that you still haven't answered."

_"Who is he, Jack? Who's the Doctor?"_

"I'll run a few basic tests, and if I come up with anything weird I'll show you. Beyond that, I refuse to be part of a kidnapping – nothing wrong with him, he walks, okay?" Owen came between them, an edge of finality in his tone that they both picked up on. It had been a strange day, and they didn't need to finish it on such a sour note, especially between the two who usually worked in tandem.

Still, Jack wasn't one to let the last word slip him by. "Well, find me an amnesia pill that won't kill him and we won't have any problems."

Suzie and Owen exchanged a look.

"Jack—" She started again.

"Jack," Tosh cut across from elsewhere in the Hub. "Yvonne Hartman's on line three, I put it through to your office if that's alright."

He groaned – to put it bluntly, he wasn't a huge fan of Torchwood One and their base of operations in London. Their methods belonged back in the nineteenth century and their attitudes towards aliens were distasteful at best. When Jack had rebuilt Torchwood he'd done it in the Doctor's honour – Torchwood One was still hell bent on capturing the man because of some ridiculous decree issued by Queen Victoria over a hundred years ago. Still, they were the headquarters for the whole Institute, so despite how much he disliked them as head of Torchwood Three Jack still answered to them.

Not to mention Yvonne Hartman was one of a kind, the only woman he knew whose arrogance was rivalled only by her ignorance and blatant disregard for non-human life. On the occasions he'd met the administrator over the past few years they hadn't exactly gotten on – not to mention Jack had been in this game a lot longer than she had. Only top level officials in Torchwood were aware just how long he'd sat on the Cardiff Rift, and Yvonne Hartman was one of them. He was a veteran when it came to alien life and Torchwood altogether, and she didn't like it. Regardless, she was still his boss, frustrating as it was.

"Tell her I'll be right there," Jack called back through gritted teeth, before turning back to the other two. "I'll be back in ten – he doesn't move while I'm gone."

In truth, he was worried – a lot more worried than the team felt he should be. Maybe none of them were aware that he'd been a member of Torchwood for over 100 years, but that didn't change the fact that in all his time using the Retcon since they'd managed to perfect the technology, there'd never been anyone who'd shown any kind of negative reaction to it. There had been people it was ineffectual on, but never someone whose body outright rejected it.

It was probably nothing – maybe a faulty pill or something funny Johnson had eaten earlier in the day, but Jack didn't like it. He had a bad feeling about it; about that boy altogether. It was one of those nagging instincts you picked up when travelling with the Doctor that you learnt to trust rather than dismiss.

He wasn't sure if that justified containing him in the Hub. Maybe a small irrepressible part of him was still sniffing for any sign of the Doctor around him, and he could tell that was what the rest of the team were picking up on. Telling himself that he was keeping Daniel around for his own good, he strode into his office to find out what the self-proclaimed lady and mistress of Torchwood wanted with him.

"Yvonne Hartman," he chirped as brightly and as falsely as he could into the receiver, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Oh Captain, I can feel you lying all the way down the line."

Her tone was, as usual, a poor attempt at being coy, no doubt with that smirk that made her perpetually look like the cat that caught the canary.

"I guess not all of us can pull them off as easily as you," he parried.

"Clearly."

"What do you want?"

"Believe it or not," he could hear her sigh, "your help."

Now he couldn't resist the triumphant grin. "Now I'm _intrigued_." With their mutual dislike always so obvious, it had to be something serious for her to consider going to him for help – knowing Yvonne Hartman, she'd probably exhausted all her other options first.

She ignored him, "how soon can you get up to Torchwood Tower?"

"I'm in Cardiff," he pointed out dryly.

"I'm aware," she purred down the phone. "I know it seems out of the blue, but you must remember I'm a professional. I'm the first to admit that your extra-terrestrial knowledge puts everyone else in the Institute to shame—and if you weren't so hell-bent on staying in your, shall we say, _modest_ subdivision in Cardiff you'd be well-received here at Torchwood One."

Jack said nothing – same old argument, same old ignorance.

"That, coupled with your... fascinating _ability_ has made you invaluable to the Institute over the years."

"I'm aware," Jack echoed in a slight mimic of her earlier tone.

Her false flattery was dropped in an instant. "Believe me, Captain, if I could ask anyone else I would have done so already."

Jack smirked, "at least I know you're being honest."

"I wouldn't go that far."

He gritted his teeth – still, he'd been right. It had to be something serious for her to want _him_, and whatever it was didn't bode well for London.

"I'll drive. Four hours tops."

He could feel her smug smile even if he couldn't see it. "I'll reserve you a parking space." With a click the line went dead, and he resisted a growl of frustration. He'd take an army of gas-masked zombies over Yvonne Hartman any day.

As he emerged from his office, before he could even start to explain to his team why he'd be heading to the capital for an indeterminate period, Toshiko beat him to it.

"London?"

The corner of Jack's mouth perked up. "Am I that predictable?"

"No, but Yvonne is. We've just been sent a lot of intel on some UFO sightings there last night—Torchwood One managed to stamp down on them before the reports became too widespread, but I'd say that's what she wants you for. Am I right?"

"Maybe," Jack shrugged; she hadn't exactly been forthcoming with information.

"That woman always makes me think of a velociraptor," Gareth mused from where he sat, swinging round in his seat to face Jack. "She _looks_ like she's smiling, but she's probably just wondering how easily she could pin you to the ground and rip open your throat."

"I'll be sure to keep an eye out for any killer claws."

**o-o-o**

The door to the TARDIS swung open, revealing a man and his companion emerging from within, already deep in conversation.

"It's like... you know how on Earth they always go on about your moon controlling the tides on the planet's surface?"

"Yeah," Rose said, eyeing him suspiciously, "doesn't it?"

The Doctor grinned. "It does, don't worry. I'm not about to ruin your primary school physics—just a simple gravitational field. Like magnets where the moon is one pole and the water's the other, right?" He turned and locked the TARDIS as he continued to talk, and Rose let her tongue poke out between her teeth and allowed herself an indulgent grin while he did so.

She loved it when he got like this – so animated and involved in his exploring, but always eager to explain it to her in a way she'd understand; keen to show her all the wonders of the stars in the only way he knew how. Like her own personal tour guide of the Universe. He loved it too, she knew, being the clever one of the pair, and that left an amiable partnership in its wake.

"Right," she agreed, even if she wasn't quite sure what she was agreeing to.

"Well, this—_this_, is different. Much different. Imagine the moon _actually_ controlled the tides instead of it being down to rudimentary forces; imagine the height of the waves being totally at the discretion of one huge, sentient being in the sky."

Rose whirled around and her jaw dropped. "You mean it's _alive_?"

The Doctor's eyes sparkled. "Oh, yes."

Before she could even begin to fire off questions the Doctor had taken her hand, tugged her gently back to his side and pointed up to the sky with his free arm, his familiar expectant and tender smile trained on her to watch her reaction as realisation dawned.

The first thing Rose noticed was how _huge_ the moon was, looming down on them like a bubble of something incandescent, a much paler ivory colour than what she was used to on Earth. It filled at least a third of the sky that she could see, appearing so close that she felt as if she could reach out and touch it – she was tempted to try, but she didn't want the Doctor to laugh at her. The edges of the moon were a lot less defined than what she was used to as well; instead of it being a clear sphere, the rim danced in her vision filled with wisps and extended tendrils of slim moonlight like ghostly tentacles reaching out across the navy sky.

Coupled with the familiar twinkling of distant stars, it was breathtaking. And it was _alive_.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, and the Doctor's grin grew wider. He refused to let his trips be anything but impressive – now more importantly than ever, given his desire to take her mind as far away from what (or rather, who) they'd found back on Earth as possible.

"You see those wobbly bits around the edge that keep moving?" He pointed at a few of the wisps she'd noticed before and she nodded. "They're antennae. They sense the gravimetric waves and distortion coming from the planet's surface and she responds however she pleases—she is, quite literally, the storm bringer for the people who live here." He squeezed Rose's hand as his musings continued. "She doesn't have a name for herself, only one of her kind. Not entirely self aware enough for communication or anything like that, but she's _brilliant _all the same."

"She?" Rose dragged her eyes from the site of the moon to look over at the Doctor with a raised eyebrow.

"The humans who colonised here call her Selene, after the Greek Goddess of the moon."

"That's lovely."

The Doctor's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Yup. Although I like to call her Carol."

Rose rolled her eyes. "So who lives here then? When are we?"

He scratched his ear and returned to tour guide mode, and she leaned into his shoulder peacefully to listen. "42nd century, this is one of the last planets to be officially colonised by the Second Great and Bountiful Human Empire before a species-rights act decreed you should stick to your own corner. Didn't last o' course, you humans are insatiable when it comes to exploration."

"And proud of it!" Rose beamed.

The Doctor spared her a smile. "Officially christened Moonwave, this planet consists of 93.7% water—Earth's only about 70.8% for some perspective—so most of the population live on floating cities." Rose's jaw dropped, but the Doctor took no notice. "I have to say, I hope they fired the bloke that named it _Moonwave_. Over three galaxies full of endless cultures and some of the most creative names in the Universe at their disposal—they take one look at Carol and go 'yep, moon controls the waves. Got just the name for that.' It's criminal!"

Rose wasn't paying attention as her smile grew even wider. "Doctor," she began, taking the opportunity to look around her now, positively brimming with excitement, "are we on a—?"

He only waggled his eyebrows in response.

"Oh my god we're floating," she gasped, letting go of his hand and jogging to the edge of the platform the TARDIS had parked on. "There's water below us and we're _floating_—it's like Atlantis or somethin'!"

"Actually, Atlantis was an island with a city. And before you ask, it wasn't my fault," he rubbed the back of his neck abashedly.

She didn't even spare him a glance, but the Doctor didn't mind being ignored.

"Amazing, isn't it?"

It had to be, especially if he was to divert her attention from other matters. The Doctor knew it was rare that he and Rose ever hit a point of contention, and he'd been shaken by their argument in the TARDIS the day before – Jack was a difficult subject to broach. He thought he'd managed to convince her that it was alright and to leave him out of the picture, but Rose didn't just _forget_ things; especially people she cared about. It was one of the wonderful things about her. However, with it being clear now that Jack was out looking for them in the 21st century he'd have to be more careful that they didn't cross paths again. A prickle of guilt tugged at the corner of his mind and he tried to ignore it with false reassurances – Jack was different now. Jack was permanent.

As much as in some ways he disliked trying to avoid an old friend in such a way, no less a friend who had put his life on the line and_ lost_ it for him, his instincts were difficult to ignore. And as he watched Rose kneeling on the ground and running her hand through the water a lazy smile slid into place. They had a great life, didn't they? The pair of them. Running from star to star and saving the Universe a hundred times over. They didn't need the added passenger when they could be just as they always had been.

Was that selfish? Probably. Maybe part of the Doctor just wanted Rose Tyler to himself, at least for as long as he could. So he was back to dazzling her with the floating cities of Moonwave in a silent plea for her to forget Jack, forget everything else, and just carry on as normal.

He was definitely selfish.

He couldn't bring himself to care.

"Want to go explore?" He called and held out his hand as she turned, wiggling his fingers invitingly.

"You betcha!" She laughed, and bounced back towards him.

Just as they started setting off for one of the nearest citadel type buildings the familiar electronic jingle of Rose's mobile phone floated out of her pocket. They halted so she could pull it out and take a look.

"It's Mickey," she said somewhat apologetically, and the Doctor groaned. "I better take it."

She let go of his hand and stepped a few paces away and he sighed – maybe he was just destined not to have her to himself for any length of time at all. He entertained himself by counting the windows of the citadel while he waited, and after a few minutes she hung up and walked back over to him with a secretive grin.

"How quick do you reckon we can explore this place then? Only Mickey thinks he's got himself an emergency back home."

This piqued the Doctor's interest. "What sort of emergency?"

"He says there's this school, right? In the last three months they've been getting record results, an' he thinks it's aliens."

"Does he now?" The Doctor mused, and Rose could tell there was a good-natured but derogatory comment about Mickey's intelligence to follow, and although it probably would have been funny she felt the need to defend him on this occasion.

"Apparently there were loads of UFO sightin's around just before the results started getting better," she pressed on, "worth checking it out though, yeah?"

"Oh 'course, yeah," the Doctor nodded, "love a good school, me. I was once a substitute teacher for Alan Turing—he couldn't half talk, I can tell you. And next to no appreciation for anything beyond maths. Even history!" The blank look Rose was giving him suggested she wasn't really sure who he was talking about, but that wasn't much of a change. "Anyway, I can guarantee you there's nothing in the _entire_ Universe more fun than going to school."

"Tell that to my sixty percent attendance record," Rose clicked her tongue and the Doctor shot her an amused look. "We can explore the city first though, yeah? TARDIS an' all. Mickey'll still be there when we get back."

The Doctor beamed, taking her hand again and nodding in the direction of the citadel. "Moonwave awaits!"

**o-o-o**

"Please tell me you're taking that dreadful hand with you," Suzie grimaced from where she stood in the doorway to Jack's office. The hand gurgled in response from its place on the desk, and Jack looked up at her from whatever he was fiddling with on its settings.

"And deprive you of that disgusted reaction every time you walk into my office?" he grinned, "Where's the fun in that?"

Suzie wrinkled her nose and averted her eyes to look at the rest of the office instead – a few duffle bags were swung into one corner, presumably with whatever Jack had decided he'd need for his stay in London inside. She found herself, bizarrely, wondering how exactly Jack washed his clothes. Did he even own a washing machine? A house or flat somewhere in the middle of Cardiff? Somehow the banality of these things she took for granted didn't quite fit in with the image he so effortlessly projected. It seemed the only thing that would seem congruous with him was that he lived _here_, in the Hub, and that was just ridiculous.

Were there any precious belongings tucked away in those bags he couldn't be without? She did wonder. The only object she'd ever seen him care about was that dratted hand.

"I'm downloading the biological code instead," Jack offered at her lack of response, showing her his wrist strap that he was never seen without. So he wasn't taking the hand, but he may as well be.

She nodded, not really wanting to ask more but still with her own suspicions about who the hand belonged to and why it was so important – considering how off kilter this day had already been, a lot of things were starting to seem logical. Jack resumed his work and the beeping of the strap was the only sound for a few moments.

"Jack," she started again and he looked up, "about Daniel."

"He stays," Jack's tone left no room for argument. "At least until I get back and we can work something out."

"So what do we do with him in the meantime? He's going to wake up." She could feel irritation worming its way back into her mind again.

Jack shrugged, "put him to work or something. He can make the tea. We need a tea boy, don't we?"

"So we imprison him here doing odd jobs long enough until he becomes a member of Torchwood? Is that the plan?"

"Worked for you, didn't it?" Jack shot back, and the words stung.

Suzie's jaw set and she looked away. "That—that was different. That was my choice."

Jack didn't answer. It gave her a nauseating suspicion that maybe it wasn't, and it never had been.

Her silence was an assent of sorts – Jack would only be away for a few days after all, and she did hate to fight with him. A few lost days on Daniel's part were nothing a working Retcon and Toshiko Sato couldn't fix, and it would give Owen ample time to complete his tests. Jack finished whatever he was messing around with and shut his wrist strap, standing up and squaring his shoulders. She knew he was giving her one last chance to make her case, even if they both knew he wouldn't listen, and she choose the more amiable route and resigned.

"Enjoy London," she said quietly.

"It's Yvonne Hartman," Jack pointed out with a smile, grabbing the duffle bags and heading past her to the door, "I'll be lucky if I even survive it."

**o-o-o**

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**So there is chapter three! For those who haven't worked it out, we're working into a prelude to "School Reunion". :D Now I'm not normally the kind of author to beg for reviews, it seems a little false, but I really would love some feedback on this since I'm getting next to none. Especially with the amount of people reading it I'd love to get some kind of idea on whether this is even worth continuing. That said, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :) Over and out! **


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